Wednesday, March 09, 2016

Irrigating the Desert

Rabbi
Pinchos Lipschutz

In
this week’s parsha, the posuk states, “All the work necessary for
the Mishkon was completed, as the Jewish people did everything Hashem
commanded through Moshe. They then brought the Mishkon to Moshe, the
tent and all its vessels...”(Shemos 39:32-33).

Rashi
(ibid.) quotes the Medrash Tanchuma, which explains that the
people brought the Mishkon and all its keilim to Moshe because
when they had finished constructing everything, they were not able to set up
the Mishkon. The keroshim were simply too heavy to be lifted into
place.

How
was this accomplished? Hashem told Moshe that he should lift the heavy wooden
beams. Moshe demurred, saying that it was physically impossible to stand them
up. Hashem told Moshe, “You get to work with your hands. Act as if you are
lifting them and they will lift themselves.”

The
Medrash, in essence, is answering an enduring question. Often, we see a
completed enterprise, a difficult plan that is realized, and we marvel: How
could one person, or even a few people, manage to erect such a massive
organization or building? From where did they get the strength to erect that
edifice? Who was bright enough to devise that plan?

Chazal
reveal the answers to these questions. When man accepts responsibility, rolls
up his sleeves, and is prepared to do the work that is necessary, Hashem
enables the impossible to happen.

Hashem
completes man’s efforts. We start, and when our good intentions reach On High,
He brings them to fruition.

Learning
this Rashi led me to contemplate the wonderful work of so many heroic
individuals and organizations that have impacted our world more than anyone
thought possible. Since I had the distinct privilege of chairing the Shuvu
dinner this past Motzoei Shabbos, their example is fresh in my mind and
is illustrative of this principle.

It
is hard to believe that 25 years have passed since the founding of Shuvu. Those
who are old enough have seen it evolve from dream to reality, from hardscrabble
caravans pursued by the government into a country-wide school system.

Rav
Avrohom Pam zt”l dreamed it and others lined up behind him with mesirus
nefesh to make it a reality.

Shuvu
got off the ground in those early days because people seized the keilim
and began building. They focused on the importance of the mission and Hashem
brought the results. Foremost among those early builders was a wonderful trio:
Sheldon Beren, Max Knopf, and Zev Wolfson.

They
believed in the dream, wrote checks, and enabled Rav Pam’s nevuah to be
realized. For example, Mr. Wolfson challenged Reb Avrohom Biderman, and as an
outgrowth of that challenge, Shuvu’s high school network was greatly expanded
and graduates from the elementary school system had a place to go to continue
on the path to becoming fine Jews. Elementary school without high school does
not bode well for continuity. Mr. Knopf wasn’t deterred when a municipality
sought to destroy his building. He pressed on. A school principal laid down in
front of a bulldozer to ensure that the school wasn’t destroyed. Thanks to that
determination, thousands have gone through the doors of that school and onto
Torah lives.

The
visionaries blazed the trail. Their families continue their heroic work and
many others have followed, rolling up their sleeves and ensuring that the dream
lives on and goals are realized. With such perseverance and commitment, the Ribbono
Shel Olam brings blessing.

A
community rov went to the Chazon Ishzt”l looking for
encouragement. He wanted to build a mikvah and was about to embark on a
campaign giving speeches around town about the importance of having a local mikvah.
He wanted the Chazon Ish’s brochah for his speeches to go over
well.

The
Chazon Ish told him instead that a thousand drashos about the
importance of mikvah don’t accomplish as much as a beautiful, spacious mikvah.

“Get
to work,” he told him.

The
Chazon Ish instructed the rov to start building and promised to
help, sending a representative to America to raise funds. They began
construction, but the project dragged on.

Neighborhood
residents went to the Chazon Ish, asking if they could begin using the
facility before the construction was completed.

He
answered in the negative and explained his reasoning. “This mikvah isn’t
only for you and the other frum families in the area,” he said. “This mikvah
is being built for the future as well and for families who are not yet
religious. We need to make sure that the building will be done right, so that
it will be attractive to them.”

The
founders of Shuvu built for the future and the future is now. Tens of thousands
of people are living Torah lives today because of Shuvu.

Those
of us who were around then have fond memories of those heady early days, when
Reb Avrohom Biderman traveled to the gedolei Eretz Yisroel, who laid the
groundwork for the new organization. Reb Avrohom wondered where the emphasis
should be, on quantity or quality.

By
that time, some 700,000 Russian Jews had arrived in Israel. Should Shuvu go
after all of them or concentrate on the ones most likely to succeed?

Rav
Shlomo Zalman Auerbach zt”l responded that both massive outreach and a
superb school system were necessary.

Rav
Elazar Menachem Man Shach zt”l sat with Reb Avrohom for a very long time
and walked him through the minefields he would be facing, holding his hand,
guiding and directing him. Rav Shach perceived that this dream was real and
gave freely of his time to help make sure it would succeed.

There
was much mesirus nefesh on the part of the staff and administration and
much siyata diShmaya over the past 25 years. There is no seed more
effective and no foundation firmer than selflessness.

If
one is fortunate to visit Eretz Yisroel, visit a Shuvu school. Like a
breathtaking view fills your soul with wonder, this experience will leave you
enriched and uplifted.

One
particular visit that sticks in my mind was one from almost eight years ago,
when I was in the presence of the Shechinah. It happened in Acco, a
mixed Arab-Jewish city way up in the north of Eretz Yisroel.

The
school in Acco was a direct outgrowth of a challenge issued by the revered
founder of the organization. Towards the end of his life, a weakened Rav Pam
told a parlor meeting audience how a group of parents from Acco had heard about
Shuvu and wanted a school for their children. Shuvu was having a hard enough
time keeping up with its existing schools, and the administration wondered how
they could undertake the opening and maintenance of yet another one.

The
elderly rosh yeshiva banged on the shtender and said,
“One-hundred-and-fifty parents want a Torah school for their children! How can
we say no? There is no cheshbon in the world that can allow us to say no
to these parents.”

Watching
him was like seeing a novi of old. You watched him and listened to him
and closed your eyes and thought, “Now I know how the novi Yeshayahu
sounded.”

Rav
Pam was extremely frail. That night, he was quiet, gentle and soft, but he
displayed the force and determination that have helped us persevere in golus.
With all the strength left in his ailing body, Rav Pam emphatically declared,
“There will be a Shuvu school in Acco and the Shechinah will be in that
school.”

Shuvu
made sure that his words would be realized, and I was zoche to witness
the miracle of 500 children in a school that no one thought would ever really
open or stay opened. I experienced the Shechinah.

I
saw the Shechinah on the faces of elementary school children as they
stood up to tell their personal stories.

“My
family never kept Pesach before, but I was able to convince my father to
try. When the bread in the house was gone, he went out looking for matzoh,”
said one child.

Sweet
little children described how they cleaned their homes for Pesach and
saw to it that the holiday would be observed. Children from irreligious homes
spoke of netilas yodayim and kashrus. They proudly told of how
they’d persuaded their parents to become observant. They were so committed,
that their age proved no barrier and they were able to turn around entire
families.

Precious
children sat attentively as in any elementary yeshiva school we know,
the Shechinah radiating from their little faces, just like Rav Pam said
it would.

To
observe those children learningTorah is to see the Rashi in our parsha
come alive. Man does the work, then Heaven steps in, and the light of the Shechinah
shines through.

Through
no fault of their own, the parents and grandparents of these children were
locked behind an iron curtain and shorn of their glorious heritage. Hitler took
the bodies and Stalin robbed their souls.

But
they can be brought back. The years of cruelty and subjugation can be undone.
The Soviet children can be given the same opportunities as ours, if they are
only given a chance.

Shuvu
gives them that chance.

Those
children are not just numbers. They are living, breathing, adorable, cute,
intelligent, young people, living Jewishly thanks to the mesirus nefesh
of teachers, administrators and donors.

When
a 17-year-old boy stands up to speak at a melava malka, you almost
expect a Russian-accented speech betraying his roots. But when he looks and
sounds just like any other yeshivabochur that age, you realize
that Shuvu is not just a dream. You appreciate that it can be done. Russian
kids, who know nothing, can be mechunach and developed into bnei
and bnos Torah.

One
woman got up and said, “We came from Russia to Ashkelon and were looking for a
school for our daughter. We saw an ad for Shuvu on television and heard ads on
the radio. It sounded like a good school, so we went to check it out and were
very impressed with the scholastic level. We didn’t know much about Yahadut.

“Look
at me now. Our daughter would come home from school and teach us. She taught us
about brachot, about netilatyadayim, about kashrut. She taught
us about meat and dairy. She taught us all kinds of things we had never even
heard of before. And then she taught us about Shabbat.

“Shabbat
was the hardest. I was so scared of it. I work a whole week and it was my free
day, my day off, when I could do what I want. I didn’t want anyone telling me
what to do on that day. But my husband was intrigued by the idea and dragged me
along. Today, we are shomrei Shabbat, and we keep kashrut, and,
lately, also taharat hamishpacha. All thanks to Shuvu.”

The
basic message was the same as each parent spoke. But instead of sounding
repetitive and trite, the speeches had a cumulative effect on us. As each one
delivered a short impromptu message, their words began sinking deeper and
deeper into the hearts of those in attendance. By the time they were done, we
were left speechless and overwhelmed.

What
has been accomplished is astounding, but it obligates us to do so much more.

When
you walk the streets of Eretz Yisroel, it breaks your heart to see the masses
of kids out there waiting for Shuvu to reach them. There are so many people who
will never know the brochah of a Torah way of life simply because there
isn’t enough money to open additional schools and spread the Shechinah
further. With pennies, their souls can be saved for eternity.

If
we don’t reach these kids, others will. If we don’t intercede and stretch out
our hands to them, others will. If we don’t get them off the streets and bring
them to Torah, nobody else will. The work of Stalin and Khrushchev and the
other Communist reshoim will be completed right under our noses.

The
Torah recounts that the brothers threw Yosef into an empty pit. Rashi
famously tells us that although the pit was empty of water, “mayim ein bo,
avalnechoshim ve’akrabim yeish bo,” it was filled with poisonous
snakes and scorpions.

The
Vilna Gaon explains that this is the rule in life. In the absence of mayim,
positive forces, nechoshim ve’akrabim, negative forces, take over.

Moshiach,
we know, is approaching rapidly. The signs are
everywhere. Let us work to rid the world of nechoshim ve’akrabim,
negative forces. There is much we can do on our own, but a most productive way
to bring about the necessary changes is to join with others who seek to fill
the world with an ocean of mayim, a sea of emunah and yedias
Hashem. The opportunities are everywhere.

The
world is like a desert, bare and parched, but a little bit of water can cure a long
drought. Help bring water to the Russians in Shuvu, Sefardim in Lev L’Achim,
and all the others from around the world who thirst for water. Let us think
about what we can do in this country as well.

Millions
of Jews are dying of thirst. We have the water. Why aren’t we giving it to
them? Why has wholesale kiruv basically become an Israeli enterprise?
Why aren’t we supporting organizations such as Oorah to do what they do on a
national scale? Why aren’t we enabling Torah Umesorah to establish and maintain
more schools in the heartland, educating thousands of parched youngsters to
conquer their thirst? Why are we satisfied with oases of water here and there?
Why don’t we want to make our own country “yarok kegan Hashem,”
irrigated and blooming, bringing the Shechinah from sea to shining sea?

We
live in a time when people no longer accept what has been forced upon them
their entire lives. Conventional wisdom is thrown out the window every day with
more gusto. Donald Trump does nothing by the book and is thus the flavor of the
day. Just because no one ever did it before, just because the experts say it
can’t be done, doesn’t mean it can’t.

Instead
of debating his merits, why don’t we take a lesson from what he is doing and
accomplishing?

Even
though everyone else has given up, why don’t we say that it’s time to press on?
Nothing is impossible.

If
we dedicate ourselves to preparing the world for Moshiach, spreading Torah and kedushah,
creating places where the Shechinah can be comfortable, we will earn
Divine assistance and realize our dreams.

If
we take that Rashi seriously and recognize that what is incumbent upon
us is hishtadlus, we could earn eternal gratitude and reward, much like
all the greats throughout the ages who went where no one had gone before and
did what had not been done, ignoring the naysayers and placing their faith in
the One Above.

It’s
Adar, the month that proclaims not to give up and to always declare,
“This is my time, this is my thing, this is the time to get involved, to extend
myself, to show that I care.”